Changing Tides
by gothamgirl28
Summary: A S3 AU collection of connected stories. All characters. New chapter - During a family visit, Tom learns about the similarities between mothers and daughters from his mother-in-law Cora.
1. Baby Talk

Fic War Prompt from the Yankee Countess: Sybil is pregnant (your decision on whether it's their first child or another one) and the baby is kicking like crazy and she can barely sleep. So Tom tries to soothe things by "talking" to the baby (murmuring to Sybil's belly) and of all things, he talks about Irish history/politics :oP

I'm apologizing for the Irish history lesson that follows. I'm not sure if the Yankee Countess knew what she was doing when she gave me this prompt. For those of you who don't know, I'm working on my thesis to earn my M.A. in Irish Studies. My topic is the Dublin Lockout, and my overall research interest is in the 1900 – 1923 period in Ireland, as well as how this is presented in film and other media. That being said, I do go into other periods of Irish history that I'm not as familiar with. So if anyone sees any mistakes, please let me know. As I always tell people, I know a lot about Irish history, but I don't consider myself an expert.

I'd also like to thank piperholmes for assisting me with some questions I had about pregnancy as my knowledge is minimal.

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**Dublin, Ireland, Wednesday, 18 July 1923**

_A little after nine o'clock at night_

Sybil sat in front of her makeshift vanity, brushing her bobbed, midnight brown hair, waiting for her husband to stop writing and come to bed. As she did this, she felt the _thump, thump, thump _of her unborn child kicking her. She sighed. The baby had been moving and kicking all day, even as she cooked and baked for Róisín's party. Sybil was exhausted and all she wanted to do was sleep. However, it seemed her little one had other plans.

Rubbing her stomach, she said, "Baby, please settle down. Your mam needs her rest."

However, the baby refused to listen to its mother, continuing to kick and squirm. Huffing, Sybil rose and walked to the bed, hoping that if she settled down, the baby would too. Climbing onto the bed, it took her five minutes to get the pillows just right in order to read for a bit. Once that was done, she started to read. However, after twenty minutes of sitting still and reading, the baby still hadn't settled down. Groaning and with a bit of a struggle, Sybil got out of bed and began to pace around the bedroom.

She was still pacing when Tom entered the bedroom twenty minutes later. Upon seeing his wife walking back and forth, he instantly became concerned. _Oh God! What if she's in labour? It's too soon._

Tom forced himself to remain calm as he asked, "Are you all right, love?"

"No, I'm not. _Your_ child refuses stop kicking me and go to sleep so I can sleep."

On hearing this, Tom couldn't help letting out a breath and chuckling. Sybil looked at him, arching her eyebrow.

"Sorry, love. I was worried that you were in labour. The last time I saw you pace like that was when you were in labour with Rosie."

Sybil nodded in understanding. Trying to get her mind off her restless, unborn child, her thoughts turned to her now three year old daughter. "Is Rosie still asleep?"

"She's still out and I doubt she'll be up before six," Tom replied. "You saw her this evening after she had some cake. One minute she was running around, the next she was sleeping on the floor sucking her thumb."

Sybil laughed. "She did look adorable curled up with her stuffed bear."

"She did, but she always looks adorable when she's sleeping. It's when she's awake that she can be a little terror." They laughed together over the truth he'd just spoken.

It was Tom who spoke first. "By the way, the meal was amazing, love. Especially the cake you made."

"I know you liked it. You went back for seconds," she teased.

"You had a fair few lemon tarts yourself," he replied.

She blushed, remembering how she devoured ten lemon tarts. _Thank goodness Ma made so many up._

"I know. I'm craving lemons and lemon desserts this time around." She stopped for a moment to glance at the mirror. "Though I really should watch myself. I'm bigger at this stage than I was last time."

Tom was having none of it. "You look beautiful, love. This is the second baby. Rosie made room for this one, so the baby has more room to grow."

"Well, if I give birth to a ten pound baby in eight weeks, I'm never going to let you touch me again."

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "You said something similar after Rosie was born, but if I remember correctly, you were the one to initiate-"

At that moment, Sybil grabbed her stomach, wincing at being kicked. Tom hurried over to his wife. "Are you sure you're fine, Syb?"

Looking up into her husband's concerned face, Sybil smiled. "Yes. The baby kicked me in two different places at the same time."

"Not even born yet and already a handful." He knelt down so his head was level with Sybil's stomach. "Now listen, little one. You need to be nicer to your mother. She's the one in charge in this household. We try to keep her happy."

Sybil chuckled at her husband's words, which quickly turned into a yawn. Tom stood up and helped Sybil get into bed.

As soon as she was settled, he went about changing into his pajamas, forgoing his undershirt on this warm July night. Sybil watched him as he changed, admiring his backside and how the muscles in his back rippled as he removed his shirt. Despite her exhaustion, she was starting to entertain thoughts of how to show Tom how much she admired him when she received another strong kick to her ribs from her baby.

"Ugh!"

Tom turned at the sound of Sybil's yell and noticed right away that she was rubbing her stomach.

"The baby still kicking?"

She nodded, a look of pure irritation on her face. "I just want to get comfortable!"

Climbing into bed next to her, Tom kissed her on the forehead then moved himself so his head was right next to Sybil's belly.

"Little one, it's time to go to sleep. Your mam needs her rest. I'll tell you a story to help you fall asleep." He paused for a moment, thinking of what sort of story to tell his unborn son or daughter. Deciding on one, he began, "Once upon a time, th-"

"Oomph," Sybil interrupted. "No fairy tales. This one isn't partial to them at the moment."

Smiling, he replied, "Fine. Let's see what would Baby Branson like to hear. How about some Irish history?"

"Really Tom?"

"It's never too early to teach children about their history."

She shook her head.

"Do you have any other ideas?"

"No."

"Good. Now where was I? Yes, Irish history. Some basic information to start out with, little one. Long ago, Ireland wasn't a Christian country, but followed the old religion. Then St. Patrick arrived here in 432 A.D. and he worked to convert the Irish to Christianity. St. Patrick is a very important man to remember. He's a patron saint of Ireland, along with St. Bridget and St. Colum Cille."

Sybil ran her fingers through his hair as he talked. She closed her eyes and listened as his voice flowed over her, calming her after such a long day.

Tom continued talking. "Ireland has been invaded and conquered throughout its history. The first known invaders after Christianity was brought to Ireland were the Vikings. They, in fact, founded the very city we live in, Dublin. Dublin is the capital of Irish Free State and was the capital for the entire island for over seven hundred years until the Government of Ireland Act. I'll tell you more about that later. The name Dublin comes from Dubh Linn, which means black pool. It's not called Duvlin because the English didn't understand how the Irish language worked and didn't know how "ibh" makes a v sound."

Sybil tapped Tom's hand, annoyed about the comment about the English. When he looked up at her, she quirked her eyebrow at him. He laughed and said, "I wasn't being mean. I was telling the truth. Remember when you were first learning Irish? You had a difficult time with lenition."

Chuckling, she said, "You're incorrigible."

Tom cheerily responded, "Thank you. Now where was I? I mentioned the English after the Vikings didn't I? I'll tell you about them in a moment."

Sybil listened intently as Tom told their unborn child story after story from Irish history. He recounted invasions by the Vikings and the English, as well as important figures such as Brian Boru and Diarmaid Macmurrough. He weaved his way through Ireland's turbulent history with his wife and unborn child as his captivated audience.

Tom paused and took a breath. "Perhaps this is because I'm a Catholic, but I take skeptical view of the Reformation in England. Basically, King Henry VIII only had one surviving child from his marriage to Catherine of Aragon – a girl named Mary. Apparently a future queen was not good enough and only men can rule a kingdom. Utter nonsense if you ask me. I find women to be incredibly smart. If there can be good kings and bad kings, there can also be good queens and bad queens. Henry wanted to annul his marriage to marry another woman. This caused many problems and started off a whole lot of back and forth between the Pope and Henry."

Brushing a hand through his brown hair, he added, "Most of the people of Ireland, including the Old English, didn't want to convert. Eventually, the Penal Laws began to be passed to punish those who did not conform."

Tom listed the various penal laws and what they meant for Catholics in Ireland, even correcting himself at one point. "Wait, one correction. The laws weren't just aimed at Catholics, but were also towards Protestant Dissenters. That would include Presbyterians as well as anyone not part of the Anglican Church."

Sybil interrupted him. "I didn't know that, darling."

Tom gave her a cheeky grin, and turning back to her stomach, said, "See, little one. You're not the only one getting a history lesson at the moment."

She gently smacked her husband on his arm which only caused him to laugh before continuing with his lesson. "As you can imagine, this did not sit well with people in Ireland. The laws were slowly repealed, but by the late 1790s, Catholics and Dissenters were still repressed. As a result, a group emerged called the United Irishmen and they rebelled in 1798. Unfortunately, after four months, the rebellion was crushed and Ireland was forced to unite with Great Britain in 1801. However, the United Irishmen were still around, and they led another rebellion in 1803."

Tom stopped here for a moment, and Sybil could tell he was gathering his thoughts. "If I'm being honest, it wasn't much of a rebellion. It began and ended on 23 July 1803, and of the two rebellions, 1798 was more successful. However, my little one, I wanted to tell you about an extraordinary woman named Anne Devlin. Anne worked for the leader of the 1803 Rebellion, Robert Emmet, as his housekeeper. After the rebellion's failure, she was arrested. The British authorities questioned her about the whereabouts of Emmet, even torturing her. Yet she didn't talk. She was sent to Kilmainham Gaol where she was kept in squalor and treated harshly. The British captured Emmet and still kept her in prison, going so far as to arrest her family. Still, she did not talk. Anne was kept in prison until 1806 and she never once uttered a word, even when Emmet told her to before he was executed. If anyone ever tells you little one that women are weaker than men, remember Anne Devlin."

Sybil smiled. "You told Rosie about her too."

"There have been other rebellions since 1803. There was one in 1848, but I think the timing was bad. Ireland was in the midst of the Great Hunger, and people were starv-"

"Please don't talk about the famine to the baby, Tom," interrupted Sybil.

"Why not?"

"You just talked about a woman being tortured. Now, you want to talk about what happened during the famine. No, absolutely not. I do not need images of starving children in my head before I go to sleep."

"Fine, love." Turning his attention back to her stomach and the baby growing in there, Tom continued talking to the baby. "As I was saying before your mother interrupted me, there was a failed rebellion in 1848. And there was another one in 1916." He paused as memories of his cousin Michael flooded his brain. "I had a cousin who was killed in 1916. He wasn't part of the rebellion. He wasn't that political in fact. He was killed by an English soldier because 'he was probably a rebel'."

Tom looked up at his wife and saw the tears in her eyes as they told their child about Michael. He recalled their argument in 1917 when he finally told Sybil about his cousin. He saw within her eyes both the ache for Tom and his loss, as well as some guilt that 'her people' had caused that pain. Leaning back down, Tom rubbed Sybil's stomach as he began to talk to the baby again. "I need to make something clear to you, little one. Not all Englishmen and Englishwomen are bad people. Your mam here is the best person I've ever met. She's fierce and kind, and has the biggest heart of anyone in this world. And she's an Englishwoman and the daughter of an earl. You're a very lucky baby, just like your older sister Rosie. Your both lucky to have your mam for your mam. Don't forget it."

Sybil sniffed, causing Tom to look up at her. He kissed her belly, then moved up the bed and sat next to his wife, wrapping his right arm around her. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips and then on her forehead, gently rubbing her back to soothe her as Sybil snuggled into him.

"Are you all right, love?"

"I'm fine," she sniffed. "You just always know what to say to take my breath away. Or in this instance, make me cry. Though I blame the tears on my hormones."

He chuckled softly. "If it makes you feel better, I never intend to make you cry, though I assume those are happy tears."

"They are."

"As long as they're not sad tears. I made a promise to devote every waking minute to your happiness and I don't intend to break it."

Sybil looked up at him and said earnestly, "You have, darling. You've made me awfully happy."

Tom beamed at her words and began to gently rub her belly. "Is the baby still restless?"

She shook her head. "No, the baby finally settled down. Thank goodness. I'm exhausted. It's not easy being seven months pregnant with a three year old running around."

He nodded as he said, "That's all she seems to do. She's either running or sleeping."

"And we're about to add another into the mix."

"Heaven help us if this one is like Rosie."

"This one is always restless, more so than Róisín was. This isn't the first time he's kicked me in two different places at the same time."

Tom raised an eyebrow at his wife. "He?"

Sybil smiled, blushing as she did so. "I know that we won't know if the baby is a boy or girl until after he or she is born, but I just have this overwhelming feeling that this one is a boy." She paused. "I thought Róisín was a girl and I was right."

"As you usually are," he replied with a grin.

Tom looked down at his wife. "Do you know what you want to name the baby?"

"Well, I have no idea for a girl." She paused. "I like Francis for a boy."

His breath caught in his throat. "After my da?"

Sybil beamed as tears formed in her eyes. "You always talk about him and I've always wished I could have met him. I thought there was no better person to name our son after."

He couldn't find the words to tell her how much her words meant to him. He kissed her sweetly on the lips, and pulled her closer to him, never wanting to let go.


	2. Two's Always Better than One

I wrote this as a belated birthday gift for several members of the S/T fandom. This story is dedicated to them.

Also, this takes place after the previous chapter, Baby Talk.

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**Friday, 24 August 1923**

Tom was sitting at his desk at the newspaper when he heard a commotion towards the front of the office. Looking up, he saw his ten year old nephew Kevin talking to Miss Tiernan, the newspaper's secretary, his arms waving about. Tom stood up just as she pointed his nephew in his direction. Kevin ran to his uncle, and began talking really quickly, making his words incomprehensible.

"Calm down boyo!" Tom said. "What's the matter?"

"Aunt Syb's in labour. Aunt Katie ordered me to fetch you and bring her to her place."

Tom's eyes widened on hearing the news. He quickly gathered up his belongings and asked Miss Tiernan to tell his editor where he was. Then he and Kevin dashed back to the street their flat was on.

As he hurried back home, Tom's thoughts raced. _Please let them be safe. The baby's not due for another month. Could the doctor have made a mistake? Oh God! If something happens to Sybil…_

Before he knew it, they were back on his street. Instead of going to Tom and Sybil's building, Kevin led his uncle to his Aunt Katie's across the street. Upon entering his sister's flat, Tom was charged at by his daughter, clearly excited about everything that was happening around her. He picked her up and kissed her on her forehead. Seeing his sister, Tom spoke, his anxiety clear in his voice.

"Katie, why am I here? I need to be with Sybil right now."

She raised her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Calm down, Tommy. The doctor and Sybil decided it would be best for you not to be there." She paused briefly before continuing. "She's about a month early and the doctor's worried that something might be wrong. Also, Rosie was being a handful and didn't want to leave her mother's side. Kevin only got her over here by promising her a sweet and a piggy back ride."

Looking at his dark haired little girl in his arms, he said, "Were you trying to help mammy?"

She nodded gravely and said, "Mammy hurting."

"I know, Rosie. She's having the baby. Are you excited about being a big sister?"

Rosie nodded and hugged her daddy tight.

Turning back to his sister, Tom asked, "Are you sure I can't help Sybil? I was with her when she had Rosie. I really want to be there when this one comes into the world."

Kathleen shook her head. "I know, Tommy, but Sybil thought it would be best if you stayed with Rosie." She paused as Tom put Rosie back on the floor, watching as she scampered to the blocks on the other side of the room. Lowering her voice, she said "I think Sybil's worried."

Tom's eyes widened in fear. Seeing this, Kathleen quickly continued. "Not for herself, for the baby. I promise you, big brother, that I will have Kevin bring you over as soon as we know what's going on. Besides, I agree that it's best for you to watch Rosie."

"You're going over then?"

"Yes. I'll watch over Sybil for you."

He hugged his sister tight and whispered, "Thank you."

She whispered back, "I know what she means to you, Tommy. Just watch over your daughter. I'll let you know what's happening as soon as possible."

With that, she left her flat and walked across the street to Tom and Sybil's. Tom sat down on his sister's couch, not sure what to do while he waited. After a few minutes, Rosie totted over to him and tried to pull herself up onto the couch. Seeing her struggle, Tom picked his little girl up and placed her on his lap. Deciding to focus on her, he asked, "Did you enjoy your sweet and piggyback ride?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes. Can I have a story?"

Tom smiled at his daughter and replied, "Yes, love."

Putting aside his fears, Tom began to tell his daughter about a beautiful lady who wore trousers, had the ability to heal people, and fought battles for the man she loved.

—

_Ten hours later_

Tom stood in the doorway of the bedroom he shared with his wife at a complete loss for words. The sight before him took his breath away. It was beyond his wildest dreams. There was his wife, sweat glistening on her face and neck, her hair all over the place, her birthing gown clinging to her from a mixture of the humidity outside and her exertions from the past ten hours. Yet, she never looked more beautiful to him as she sat up in their bed, beaming down at their children.

_Twins_, he thought. _We have twins. Two babies…oh wow!_

As he looked on the incredible scene before him, Sybil was staring at her sons, feeling her love for them overwhelm her. She was stunned. Happy beyond what she thought was possible, but still stunned. Two, identical little boys. _Thank God Ma had the presence of mind to order Kathleen to go into the linen closet and fetch the green blanket. We wouldn't be able to tell them apart if she hadn't._

Sybil looked up at Tom then and smiled. "Darling, come and meet your sons."

His eyes widened at her words. "Sons? They're both boys?"

She chuckled. "Yes. Come and meet the little troublemakers."

He slowly walked over to the bed, and carefully sat down, not wanting to disturb Sybil and the babies. Tom just gazed at his sons, looking back and forth between them, noticing how much they looked alike.

Tom couldn't help the question that passed his lips, his voice filled with worry. "How are we going to tell them apart?"

Sybil laughed. "I think your mother figured that out for us. The one wrapped in the green blanket is our youngest. Our middle child is in the white blanket." She paused for a moment, then continued. "Would you like to hold him?"

Tom beamed. "Yes!" he exclaimed before gently picking up his second child. He was amazed at how tiny he was, and it made him worry.

"Are they well? They did arrive early."

She smiled at the concern in his voice. "Yes, quite well. They're both a little over five pounds and their lungs are developed. You haven't heard them cry yet. They are definitely Bransons."

He laughed heartily at that. They sat in silence for a little while before he brought up their next hurdle.

"What are we going to name them?"

"Well, I still want to name one Francis after your father, like I told you the night of Rosie's birthday. I think the older of the two."

"That's the one I'm holding."

"Yes." Seeing the look on her husband's face, she asked, "Are you all right, darling?"

"It's a lot to take in. I was only expecting one baby, but this is beyond words."

Sybil looked up nervously at her husband. "But you are happy about them?"

Tom looked at her like she was nuts. "Of course! It's a surprise, but I love surprises."

"Good, because I'm absolutely in love with them. Now, let's get back to the matter at hand – names!"

He smiled at her. "We're agreed on Francis with this one," he said, nodding his head towards the newborn in his arms. "What about Michael for the other?"

"Michael Branson," Sybil said, trying the name out to see if she liked it. Smiling, she said, "It's perfect. But why Michael?"

"After my cousin," he said softly.

Sybil shook her head. "I'm sorry, darling. I can't believe I forgot."

"Nonsense, love. You've just spent ten hours in labour and gave birth to two babies. You're allowed to forget one or two things. Or a dozen."

She laughed at that. "What about middle names? Do you have any ideas?"

Tom shook his head. "None whatsoever." Stealing a glance at his wife, he noticed a look in her eye. "Do _you_ have any ideas for middle names?" he asked.

"I'd like to use the Irish version of your name for Francis's middle name. You're the best man I know and I like how it sounds with Francis. I would use it for both of them, but I want to make sure that they each have their own separate identity."

Tom gave her a small smile, touched by her words. He leaned in carefully, making sure not to jostle Francis, and kissed Sybil on the cheek.

Sighing, he said, "That still leaves Michael without a middle name."

She nodded. "Any family names we could use?"

Tom thought for a moment, going through family names in his head, when his mind thought of his maternal grandfather. _Eóghan. Michael Eóghan. I like the sound of that. I hope Sybil does too._

"What about Eóghan, after my grandfather?"

"Michael Eóghan – that's perfect," Sybil replied enthusiastically.

Right after that, Tom's mother Máire came into the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Rosie just woke up and she wants to meet the baby. Her words. I didn't tell her there were two."

Sybil lit up even more when she heard her daughter's name. "Let her come in. I want to introduce her to her brothers."

Máire turned and quickly came back in with her granddaughter. Rosie walked into the room in her white cotton nightgown, excited to finally meet her little brother or sister. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw not one, but two babies, one in each of her parents' arms.

Tom smiled at his daughter and said, "Come here, a stór. Come and meet your little brothers."

She scampered towards the bed and pulled herself, with her grandmother's help, onto the bed, and maneuvered her way in between her parents. Rosie looked back and forth at her brothers, obviously delighted and confused about why there were two.

Noticing this, Sybil said, "We know we only told you that you would have one brother or sister, but we got a little surprise and got two instead."

The little girl nodded and said, "Two's always better than one. Like biscuits."

The adults all chuckled. "Exactly what I was thinking, mo mhúirnín," replied Tom.

"Do my two newest grandsons have names yet?" asked Máire.

Both Sybil and Tom beamed at her. Tom spoke first. "This one is Francis Tómas Branson." He paused for a moment, noticing his mother's breath catch and tears come to her eyes. "Sybil chose the name."

Máire beamed at her daughter-in-law, touched by her thoughtfulness. When she showed up at Máire's door over four years ago, Máire would have never thought that Sybil would be the daughter-in-law she would be closest to. Now, the two spent so much time together and were considered a formidable pair.

Sybil then spoke. "And this one, our youngest, is Michael Eóghan Branson."

With that, Rosie leaned forward and placed a kiss on Michael's forehead, then turned and kissed Francis's forehead.

"Hi brothers. I have so much to tell you." With that, Rosie began to talk to her brothers, only stopping as she fell asleep nestled between her parents.


	3. Like Mother, Like Daughter

I posted this story months ago as my 4,000th Tumblr post. It's a companion piece to a story that the Yankee Countess posted. You can find links to the original posts on my author page. Though I did make some small changes to the story, I do recommend going to the original post because the story was written around a picture I found.

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_Grantham House, London, July 1924_

Sybil was talking to Edith in the corner of the drawing room, discussing Edith's second pregnancy, when she heard the mixed laughter of her mother and her husband. Glancing over to where they were sitting on the sofa, she saw that they were looking at something and laughing.

"I wonder what they're laughing at," said Edith, speaking Sybil's own thoughts.

"Let's go and find out," she replied, smiling at her elder sister. The two sisters walked over to their mother and Tom, being careful to avoid knocking into Sybil's twin sons, Edith's daughter, and the newest addition, George, Mary and Matthew's son, crawling about on the floor, and being carefully watched by Matthew and Evan, Edith's husband.

Sybil asked as they approached, "What are you two looking at?"

Tom looked up, a broad grin gracing his face. "Your mother is showing me pictures from your childhood."

Peering over her husband's shoulder, Sybil's face darkened in embarrassment. There on her husband's lap was a photo album filled with pictures of her from her younger years. There were several pictures of her climbing trees, her stockings ripped beyond repair, and of her in the garden, wearing crowns of flowers in her hair.

Cora noticed the embarrassment on her youngest daughter's face and laughed. "I thought Tom should be prepared for any trouble that Rosie can and will get into, especially if she takes after you."

"Oh mama!"

Tom chuckled. "I tried telling her that we already know that any children we have will be troublemakers and I didn't need to be warned. However, your mother came armed with photographic evidence."

Edith laughed as she entered the conversation. "Mama, I remember you always going around with that camera. You loved it. Are there any pictures of Mary or myself? I'm asking to determine if I need to hide anything from Violet and this one."

Cora sighed. "Unfortunately, most of these photographs are of Sybil. By the time Brownie cameras came out, Mary was nine and you were eight, and your nursery crimes were behind you. Well, for the most part. Sybil, however, was three and so full of life, that I couldn't help taking these pictures. As you can see, most of the time, she saw me and smiled for the camera. However, there are a few where she didn't take notice of me and kept on doing whatever she was doing. Those are my favorites."

Turning to her son-in-law, Cora asked, "Do you have a favorite, Tom?"

"I love them all, but this one," he said, pointing to a picture in the top left hand corner, "is my favorite. It's such a Sybil thing to do."

Sybil turned her head to see which photograph he was pointing to. On seeing the picture, she smiled as memories from a summer afternoon over twenty years ago came rushing back to her.

Cora smiled and nodded her approval. "That one is my favorite as well. I refer to it as the Animal Tea Party."

"I wanted to have a tea party, but Edith and Mary refused to join me, telling me that they had more important things to do then play with kiddie games."

Edith winced. "I'm sorry, Sybil. Mary and I were such frightful children."

Sybil shrugged. "I wasn't that bothered. You two rarely played with me. I was used to playing by myself. I liked it, in fact."

Continuing on, "As I was saying, I wanted to have a tea party. I think I just had received my own tea set for my birthday and wanted to use it. When Edith and Mary refused to join me, I gathered up the kitchen cats, the stable dog and my stuffed bear for a tea party." She pointed to one cat and said, "The one next to me drinking from his cup is Puss. He was my favorite of the cats. Always was friendly and loved it when I petted him."

Tom looked at her full of fascination. "Who are the other two cats?"

"The tabby was named Trudy and she was nice most of the time. However, as you can see, she's staring at Sir Bearry." She stopped speaking as her husband busted out with laughter at the name of her stuffed bear. She playfully swatted his arm and chided him. "Don't laugh, Tom! I was six. I didn't put that much thought into naming my dolls."

He looked up at her apologetically. "Sorry, love. I don't think I was expecting the toy to be called Sir Bearry. Please continue."

"Trudy liked Sir Bearry a lot and she always tried to take him. If you look, you can see she's plotting to take him. Just before our tea party ended, she pounced and tried to take Sir Bearry. Thankfully, she failed. Though I always made sure not to have Sir Bearry with me when I went to the kitchen after that."

Tom wanted to know more. "What about the black cat? And the dog?"

"I called the black and white cat Countess. She reminded me of granny so much. I think it was her face and posture. Very imperious. However, she was far and away sweeter than granny. At least to six year old me."

Her mother said, "I'm fifty-six and I can honestly say that the cat was absolutely sweeter than my mother-in-law."

The four of them laughed at Cora's words, knowing how true they were.

Tom spoke first. "What about the dog?"

Edith answered him. "That was George the stable dog. He belonged to Lynch. Papa's only ever had yellow labradors." She paused, going back to her childhood herself. "We, Sybil and myself, loved George, and he liked us, especially Sybil. Though that might have to do with the fact that she always gave him food."

He chuckled. "That's how we got our cat."

Sybil playfully huffed. "I'm right here. I can hear you."

He looked up with her in admiration. "Love, your kind heart is one of the things I love best about you."

She smiled and blushed at his words. Even after five years of marriage and three kids, Tom still knew exactly what to say to make her blush.

"What were you doing?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Sybil looked at the photograph and laughed. "George and I were having a staring contest. He won."

Tom laughed heartily at that. _Only Sybil._ He was quickly joined by his wife, mother- and sister-in-law.

Their laughter was interrupted by a mewing sound. The four of them, as well as Matthew and Evan, turned toward the door and saw Rosie enter the room carrying the grey kitchen cat and her own stuffed bear Brendan, followed closely by Isis. The little group settled around the small table set up for the little girl in the drawing room, which had her brand new tea set on it. Rosie placed the grey cat on a chair to her left before putting Brendan on a chair across from the cat. Isis watched her as she did this, waiting for instructions.

Rosie turned to the Labrador, pointed to a spot at the table, and said, "Isis, sit there."

The dog happily listened to his mistress, for she was his mistress whenever the Bransons came to visit, wagging his tail as he moved to his spot. Once he was settled, Rosie went about pouring tea, or in this instance, water into the tea party 'guests' cups. After she served everyone, she sat down and introduced everyone. "Lady Grey this is Isis and Brendan. Brendan, Isis, this is Lady Grey."

Sybil felt her face heat at her daughter's actions. Tom was chuckling and happily turned to his mother-in-law and said, "Thank you for the warning, Cora. It appears that it was needed. Like mother, like daughter."

Cora gave her son-in-law a mischievous look. "I know. Sybil took after me as well."


End file.
